Any army can have me, take my cloak,
and win my allegiance. Any army at all
for all I care. This physical torment is a
leave-able laughter. I go where I go where
I go. Stand straight, you little fool, and
present arms to those before you.
It's all so boring : the Redcoat wears his
his cannon-ball armor like a still soldier
dead in the field. The Battle of The Short
Hills was where he fell, just outside the
Chatwick House. Smoke smoldered
from his bloody wound.
They took down his clothing and left him
there. Carrion my wayward son, carry on.